


Corundum 22

by dragondream



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Mystrade fluff, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragondream/pseuds/dragondream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Invader have taken over in world in a peaceful manner and for the most part life goes on as usual.  For some individuals, the advent of the new regime will bring signifigant changes to their everyday lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strangers in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a strange plot bunny that just will not leave my head. Not brit-picked or beta-ed so I apologize in advance. Standard disclaimers apply.

In the end it had be quite simple really. The Invaders as they were popularly called on the street had been living quietly among the general population for decades, perhaps centuries when, finally fed up the antics of what they considered a lesser species they made their move. Unlike their cohabiters on the rapidly shrinking third rock from the sun, the invaders used highly civilized means to take control of civilization, the purchase of a penny stock here, the election of a junior MP there and perhaps a new president across the water. Before anyone had realized the invaders control was absolute.

  
In reality, the takeover had very little effect on the daily lives of the average citizen. There were no radical job revisions, the media was not censored, and governments, for the most part ran the same way they always had, well except now they were told what laws would pass when and the proceedings were really just a way to keep a less savory element of the population occupied and under control rather than incarcerating them. Perhaps the only real change was the Invaders insistence on free universal healthcare of a certain standard for the entire population. For some countries the thought of participating in an annual physical complete with a blood test was normal but in some countries this went against the fabric of freedom of choice (or at least freedom to charge an arm and a leg for everything) and vociferous denouncements crowded the airways which were, of course completely ignored. All in all even the most ardent detractor had to admit in their hearts that really, life under the invaders was not so bad.  
No one had however, noticed the disappearances.

  
Dr. John Watson, formerly of Her Majesty’s army now an A &E doctor in London had no concern with the change in global administration. In fact in a very real way the new overlords had made his job quite a bit easier in the long run. Crime was down significantly and with the mandatory annual health evaluations, less catastrophic illnesses had been left untreated until they had reached critical mass. Most were caught in the early stage and treated accordingly really; the only things he was dealing with now were the occasional car accident and sick child.

  
Until tonight.

  
“Excuse me, has a man roughly 18 been brought in tonight?” An older woman with gray hair and an anxious face quizzed the receptionist breathlessly.  
“No ma’am we’ve had no admittals matching that description. “

  
“But this is the last one! We’ve checked all the other hospitals in the area he has to be here” Her voice as getting shrill now as she started to enter the first stages of hysteria.

  
John paused on his way out the door as he listened to the woman, obviously a relative looking for a missing person. It was not the first time this had happened is his career although recently such searches had mostly resulted in happy endings with the objects of the search being located at a friend’s house or a forbidden party the next morning. This one for some reason sounded different.

  
“Excuse me ma’am, Dr. John Watson, can I help you?” For some he felt compelled to get involved.

  
There was a grateful look on the woman’s face as she turned towards him the look of some who was finally being acknowledged after a long a fruitless night.  
“My son has disappeared on his way home from school. We went to the police be they told us there was nothing they could do. I have checked all the hospitals and no one has seen him – he is a good boy! A good student he-“

  
The reception door had opened to admit an attractive woman with long dark hair and a blackberry. The nondescript suit and quiet aura of power she exuded marked her someone from one of those weird agencies that officially does not exist in the government faster than any official identification could have in the long run.

  
“A Mrs. George so there you are! So silly of you to leave the house without taking your medication we have been looking all over for you for hours. Do come along now, you mustn’t keep you husband waiting” The young woman commanded brightly

  
“But Douglas has….Douglas is”

  
The young woman looked at Mrs. George quizzically “Douglas? Who is Douglas? Come along now your husband is waiting”

  
Mrs. George stared at the woman, eyes bright with unshed tears for moment before her shoulders slumped and she allowed herself to be led away to the waiting car.

  
“Thank you for your assistance Dr. Watson. “The young woman inclined her head politely as she returned her gaze to the blackberry in her hand. She made her way to the waiting care as well without so much as a backward glance.

  
The name stuck with him on the way home from the hospital. There was something familiar about the name. A memory teased the back of his consciousness without the force or will to bring on full-fledged recognition. So he searched. While he may not have the skills of a fully trained and vetted librarian on a hacking genius, he was pretty good with words and soon, slowly the Internet gave up some of its secrets.

  
It seemed Douglas George was a good boy, a smart boy. The type of boy a mother has reason to brag about. A science award here, first place in a poetry contest there and don’t forget the star athletics. But in a way the articles were odd. Some links seemed to be disappearing as they appeared on the search page and on one page … code could not rewrite itself as you watched right?

  
There was one other place he could look John thought grimly, technically it could be considered an ethics violation but if the boy was missing and no one was taking it seriously. From all accounts this was not a person to just walk away his family, friends or accomplishments. There could be a simple explanation, perhaps, he was on drugs and the mother was in denial. Well, in for a penny in for a pound John sighed as he called up the medical portal on his laptop.  
This was one latest innovation that the Invaders had added into the global health care access – instant access to medical records for medical personal regardless of location. In a way this made John’s job much easier by allowing him to call up records of patients regardless of country of origin – no longer was language a barrier to finding out a proper medical history or updating the record of a traveling patient. The system also gave him the opportunity to work on some items at home if necessary – or to snoop though it was not completely ethical.

  
Entering in his Douglas’ hometown and name into the database yielded only one match, fortunately for John the family was apparently a transplant and not, in a longstanding English tradition, one of those families that had lived in the same little hamlet, or in this case suburb of London for centuries. On the surface, the medical record John had accessed told the same story as the newspaper articles, a normal childhood with normal complaints. Nothing out of the ordinary that he could see on the surface.

  
Except for one notation.

  
Buried at the bottom of the general health statistics and generic blood work was a new category, one John had never seen before: brF. Value in the column was P with a collection date noted for today and a string of letters and numbers afterward. That in itself was strange as his last documented blood test was six months ago. Doing a quick search in his medical journals or online yielded nothing for the notation brF in blood work either.

  
That was strange.

  
Using his medical portal, he searched for all instances of this tag in the records.

  
Access denied.

  
Even stranger.

  
Out of curiosity he pulled up his own record – and looked for the strange test. Once again, buried the end of generic blood work was the same brF - also listed as positive with a collection date of...

  
Tomorrow.

  
Oh.

  
Half way across the city, in an unobtrusive room in a non-descript building a tall, rail thin dark haired man noticed the alert that popped up on the computer screen and smiled  
****

John could not sleep after reading the cryptic collection date on his medical record. It probably was a coincidence he reasoned, a date for record retention or some such that nothing to do with the disappearance of that young man but still, there was the little voice in the back of his mind that was telling him to batten down the hatches, lower the portcullis and set up the anti-personnel mines around the perimeter just in case.

  
There was however, the issue of evidence or more importantly, the lack there of. Currently, all John had to go one was the word of one distraught mother who was driven away in a very fancy car by the type of individuals usually associated with super-secret organizations in Spy movies and a strange notation in two different medical charts – one of which he really was not supposed to have seen. Really who could he talk to about his suspicions right now without getting into difficulty? The conspiracy theorists? The neighbor’s cat?

  
In the end, John did what could be considered the “grown up thing” and at least tried to sleep. After all, he had the early shift the next morning and really, he just wanted to grab as much sleep as he possibly could before going in the next day.  
They were waiting for him.

  
Three men in dark genric suits standing at the reception desk. Just like last night they exuded the air of actors late for their casting call to the next low budget spy movie.  
“Dr. Watson I presume?” the tallest of the men asked formally

  
“Well, my name certainly is not Livingston” John replied dryly

  
“We have some questions concerning the incident that occurred here last night, if you please come with us we would like to take your statement. Your shift has been covered for your convenience”.

  
“What agency are you with and may I see some ID?” Something was not right here. Every time the police constables dealt with the hospital staff they always, always identified themselves by name immediately.

  
“Please, just come with us. It will not take that long, just a few questions” repeated the tall man once again.

  
“Any questions you have you can ask me in my office - with a witness. If you are not willing to do so or to identify yourselves I will have to ask you to leave.”

  
The tall man sighed again. “It would have been so much easier if you had just come willingly. But I suppose given your training that was never going to happen. “

  
It was a coordinated, practiced plan he realized later, when he had time to go over the incident in his mind, the must have trained for hours and done it in the field hundreds of times to make go so smoothly. The tall spokesperson feinted toward his face and John automatically brought his arm up in defense. Meanwhile spy wannabe two made a grab toward his left arm and then a sharp prick on the back of his neck (spy wannabe three must have maneuvered in place with a hypo and a fast acting sedative)…. And then nothing.

*****  
When he awoke his first impression was of white: White walls, white floors, white sheets and white clothes. It kind of felt like being incarcerated inside of a blizzard or perhaps a marshmallow, only less sticky. The room or cell as it could more accurately be called resolved itself to a narrow windowless space holding only the bed he was currently occupying and nothing else meaning that it was not meant for long term occupation – he hoped.

  
Slowly, he sat up and gingerly swung his feet (bare he noticed absently) toward the floor. There seemed to be no real after effects of drug. Whatever it was had been designed to be fast acting an apparently harmless. As he made to stand up the door opened.

  
“Mike?” John gasped as he recognized his friend from medical school.

  
Mike looked at John in a sheepish manner and sighed thoughtfully “I never thought I would see you in here John”

  
“And here would be?”

  
Mike stared straight ahead and hesitated for a moment, then took a seat on the cot in the room next to John. They sat like that for several moments until the silence became oppressive and John felt the need to repeat his question.

  
Mike sighed. “First of all I am supposed to start out with canned spiel about how this is for the good of the world and you should be proud to be chosen for such a momentous and honorable task but for some reason it won’t come out. I just can’t-“

  
“What is this about? Have I broken some sort of law?” John thought uncomfortably about the search he had performed last night. Was this his own fault?  
“No! It has to do with-“

  
“It’s the brF factor isn’t it? Whatever that is” John looked his friend directly in the eye. Mike was trying to look away with little success. Finally he sighed and nodded.  
“Are you an invader?” John asked quietly

  
Mike nodded again and his eyes slid sideways “we are taught from a young age to blend in. Until recently we really considered ourselves no more than second slightly more intelligent hominid species cohabitating the earth the native life form. As children we were taught to do our best to help you as species evolve so that we could eventually reveal ourselves…” he sighed

  
“What changed?” John asked quietly

  
“We don’t know if it was inbreeding – we were never fertile with your species and the original population was not that large – or if the environmental changes caused by global warming starting with the industrial revolution caused it but we are no longer fertile with ourselves”

  
“Your race is dying out?”

  
“We found a solution – it’s not, not ideal more of a stop gap and it necessitated the” Mike started

  
“The brF what does it stand for?” John was beginning to get a sinking feeling

  
“Breeder Factor compatibility” Mike whispered as leaned back against the marshmallow wall and focused his eyes on the ceiling.  
“What so I can father a child….” John started

  
“No.” Mike eyes remained fixed on the ceiling “With some ….. Modifications….. You are capable of bearing a child. It turns out that the carrier in our case was the key to …. John…”

  
He was shaking he realized clinically, a perfectly normal reaction to shock, he thought as his body went numb. Mike’s voice had zoned out as the plump man had leapt to his feet and spoke some words in a language he did not recognize. Almost instantly the room a second man entered the room and soon the world went blissfully black.

***  
Mike was sitting in a chair provided for his convince when John regained consciousness for a second time. He was still in the marshmallow room, the door closed was closed again and the light somewhat muted.

  
“How long have I been out?” John asked

  
Mike looked up from the book he was reading and checked his watch. “About three additional hours. We are running out of time. The selection will take place in...”

  
“Selection?”

  
Mike had the grace to look somewhat shamefaced “You will be matched with your ...”

  
“Rapist?” John asked crudely

  
“It’s not like that-“

  
“So what is it like that crude American shows where women are handed a rose if the pseudo harem master wishes to sleep with them at the end of the hour?” John sneered staring up at the ceiling.

  
“No, it’s more like a meet and greet. We’ve found that the genetics are very particular and the procedure is risky. You will be introduced to your…. Potential mate and if the compatibility levels seem to work we will start the process.”

  
“And if not? “

  
“You will be moved to more permanent accommodations and you will be introduced to additional individuals. Eventually we will find a match for you. I’m sorry but potential breeders are to rare and your compatibility rating is too high…”

  
“What happens afterward life in harem as broodmare?” asked John bitterly

  
“No John, you will be treated like a beloved husband and allowed to resume your career – “  
“Except I will have to explain to everybody how I got pregnant….”

  
Mike laughed “this is where your fondness for crap telly will pay off remember that strange American show “How I Met Your Mother”” The one with the actor the adopted twins?  
“Yeah sort of”

  
“He didn’t adopt.” Mike smiled  
“You mean…..”

  
“Yeah they had to come up with something because the carrier – that is the polite term by the way- was so high profile. Eventually, the truth may come out but for now, I would say maybe half of the high profile adoptions are actually…”

  
The door to his cell opened once again and Mike straightened suddenly in his seat. “It is time John” he said quietly and put an arm out to help him off the bed.

  
John slowly stood up and shook off the residual dizziness caused by the second round of sedation. Slowly following Mike to the door, he entertained a brief notion of attempting to overpower his former classmate and escaping, until he saw the presence in the hallway. Mike smiled apologetically.

  
“The gentlemen in the blue scrubs will escort you to the selection room where you will wait with the other carriers. I will see you again after the selection have taken place. “

  
“You’re not? “

  
“You and I are not compatible John, I thought you would feel better if you heard the information from me but ... “Mike shrugged. “ My selection was yesterday. I matched successfully with a young man...”

  
“Douglas George…” John breathed “his mother?”

  
“It’s a little harder when they are so young. I had hoped he would be a little older but unfortunately...” Mike shrugged again. “In this case we will use drugs and hypnosis to implant the idea that Doug was accepted into a prestigious early med program – which in a way is the truth as we will be accelerating his studies so that he can assist with the program. It may take a month or two for her new memories to take but she will be happier in the long run. Then of course she will be thrilled when she sees her first grandchild. This is where I leave you John.” Mike Indicated a door marked with strange symbols as the blue clad personnel surrounded him. “Good Luck”

  
The group that was assembled in the large room was not what John had expected. In fact in a very real way, John had no idea what to expect when he was escorted forcibly into the room with the other carriers. They seemed to come from all walks of life. Some were obviously professionals who uniformly wore the look of people who were looking for someone to register a complaint with the person in charge. There were some younger ones who looked shell shocked and slightly upset about the whole situation although it was quite obvious that there was no one who was under the legal age of consent in the room. In one corner there were some women – and men who looked devastated, most of them clutching rings on their, ah John thought dispiritedly they must have already been in a committed relationship. Given no choice but to back out…

  
“Sucks to be us doesn’t mate?” a silver haired man asked. He did not belong to one of the preferred clusters based on age, occupation, previous relationship status, or...

  
“Is everybody new here?” John asked the Silver haired man “John Watson “

  
“Greg Lastrade dunno I came in last night My Chief Inspector told me to go look into an odd disappearance with these blokes in black suits and..”

  
“Next thing you knew you were inside a marshmallow being told to lie back and think of Queen and Country?” John laughed

  
“Something like that and you? I was at A&E this morning when James Bond wannbes ….” John started as the door slid open again.

  
They were dressed in street clothes and it was obvious the came from all walks of life. It was also obviously that they had been briefed is some manner before they entered the room as most made their way immediately towards a specific individual. The dark haired woman from the night before approached a mousey woman near the corner and stuck out her hand. Another woman also dark haired and impeccably dressed walked toward them briefly before veering off towards a thin blond woman. Then they entered the room.

  
“Damn” muttered John and Greg laughed in agreement.

  
It was obvious by the bickering that they were brothers, at least to anyone who had ever had a sibling. Both were tall though the older one had distinctly auburn hair while the younger sported dark curls. They were both wore their presence like a beacon, a light that once you stood in its presence would never quite leave you. For a moment,  as they stood in the doorway the seemed to scan the room to get their bearings before…  
“No of all the people…” breathed Greg as the bickering beacons of light weighed anchor and set their course for their island of leave us alone.

  
“Maybe if we scatter?” John suggested as they brother’s trajectory remained unaltered.

  
Greg shook his head. “If they are really heading for us nothing and I mean nothing will throw those two off the scent and running will just make them grumpy. We better just stay here and hope they alter course”

  
“Ah DI Lastrade just the man I was hoping to see” the auburn haired older man smiled politely.

  
“Mycroft”

  
“Let us keep this straight and to the point shall we? You have been of course designated as a carrier. Thanks to the woefully unsuccessful escape attempt you made last night you were kept sedated. I had the preliminaries taken care whilst you were under sedation and have registered you as my choice. “Mycroft raised his hand and four of the blue clad individuals approached their group.

  
“The same goes for you Dr. Watson, although in your case” Mycroft frowned a moment caught off guard by the sight of a mobile phone “how did get that in here? You know that we cannot-“

  
“Considering they have no pockets, most of them are in shock and there are enough staff to conduct room to room searches on a moment’s notice –“  
“That is not the point! It would only take one of those horrible - what do the call them? Ah yes selfies or a stray tweet to destabilize half of the world and really, I will have other things to worry about for the next few months-“

  
John just stared at the men for a moment before turning to Greg who shook his head “Are they always like this?” he asked

  
Greg sighed mournfully “pretty much the younger one is Sherlock, he works with me sometimes” the blue clad staff had reached them now and were arranging themselves in a familiar escort pattern one blue person on each hand. Meanwhile, for the rest of the occupants of the room, it looked like a small selection of canapés and various drinks were about to be served.

  
That was it. He had been kidnapped, drugged, forced to listen to a long session on alternative biology and now, Now he was standing here while two obviously upper class individuals bickered about a mobile…

  
It was an impulse really, he did not expect it to work especially with staff standing right next to him but he had try. Without giving any indication of his intentions, John shot towards the phone only to be grabbed by the staff.

  
“Not a bad attempt John. Although you shifted your weight slightly forward giving away your intentions.” Sherlock announced critically “If you had”  
“Sherlock really don’t you think you should introduce yourself to your selected before-“Mycroft chastised him

  
“Nonsense, John is a reasonably intelligent individual who was just informed by Lastrade of my identity do keep up Mycroft”

  
“Look why don’t we all go get something to eat and-“ Greg attempted to defuse the situation and really, John agreed with him as he was getting kind of hungry.

  
“You can’t eat anything” Mycroft announced nodding at the staff who grabbed their each grabbed the arm they were standing beside. “That would set the next phase back at least twelve hours and quite frankly, what would be the point?”

  
With that they were firmly escorted from the room.


	2. Hit the restart button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John awakes. There are board games. Questions are answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of psuedo-science most of it utter and total nonsense. Lots of Psycho babble also total nonsense. some angst. There also be plot and bickering lots of bickering. You have been warned.

For an instant, he forgot where he was. For an instant the pain transported him in time a space to a place full of sand and heat and a hope for survival but as he completely returned to himself the shear blandness of his surroundings penetrated his consciousness and the memories of alternative biology and bickering brothers came to forefront.

“How are you feeling” a bright cheerful voice asked from somewhere in the vicinity of his head.

Postop nurse a thought floated into his mind.

“What did you do to –“It was starting to get easier to form a coherent thought and as he rifled through his memories. They had been firmly escorted along with the bickering pair of brothers to a separate floor where, after a brief examination of the paperwork, bickering brothers were left in the waiting area as John and Greg continued on to a standard hospital room.

“Alright gentleman” a no nonsense female voice announced,” everything comes off. These go on. You know the drill. When you’re done hop on the bed and we’ll come and get you when its time. “ For a moment they had just stared at the women with hard eyes. She returned the look with the ease of someone who knew the predetermined outcome of any altercation that may take place. “Let’s review our options for a minute shall we?” She suggested in a firm tone. “You could do what I just told you and then let the nice IV therapists insert your lines without an issue and then sit comfortably on the bed and perhaps if you are really good, watch some football until they are ready for you. Or you can rush me in a misguided effort to try to escape which will be picked up by the cameras triggering a flood of my colleagues who will strip you, restrain you, attach the line anyway and walk away leaving you to stare at the wonderfully soothing white walls and contemplate your fate. “ Her face softened for a moment before continuing “I realize this has been a hard confusing time period for you it gets better soon I promise just bear with it a little longer.” and with that comment, she left the men to change into the hospital gowns.

“Cameras huh? I wonder if they get some sort of thrill watching us change” Lestrade grumbled after he had pulled the curtain separating the beds and began the process of changing into the traditionally stylish hospital gown. John surveyed the room carefully there were no overt cameras in room but given the sophistication of the operation chances were the cameras were small discrete and probably in a place that would allow them some modicum of privacy. He shrugged and changed into his own hospital provided fashion. The door opened not a minute after they had finished. The drill sergeant nurse had returned with two younger women bearing IV equipment.

“Very good gentlemen” she approved as the men obediently displayed their arms for intubation. “You have earned your football”

“Thanks” replied Lestrade sarcastically

“What exactly is going to occur during this stage two?” inquired John as Nurse Drill sergeant pressed a series of buttons to activate what appeared to be a section wall. Miracle of all miracles a real-time football game appeared in all its glory where there had merely been a white panel. She hesitated a second her eyes going soft once again.

“It’s really better if you don’t know what is about to happen the procedure goes somewhat smoother that way, I’m sorry” and with that she once again left the room. John watched the game in total silence mind contemplating what might become of them in the near future.

*****

Postop nurse continued in the same vein as Nurse Drill Sargent.

“How are you feeling Dr. Watson? “She asked again firmly He took stock of his situation. He was lying on his stomach he realized, his head cradled in a horse shoe shaped pillow which allowed him a spectacular view of the floor also done he noted in a soothing shade of white. As far as he could tell nothing had really changed. The bits he had worried about the most at the beginning of this procedure – his penis and testicles- were still attached and he hoped, still functioning. As for the rest...

“Ow.” He said intelligently

“I need you to wiggle your toes and your fingers Dr. Watson. Is the pain localized or is it an all over ache?” Slowly, he moved each of his digits and breathed and internal sigh of relief. His mind blearily considered the implications of her questions – spinal surgery of some sort? And the pain?

“OW!”

Postop paused a second in what John assumed was some sort of inspection tour of attached monitors. Seconds later a cool sensation flooded his arm and spread quickly throughout is entire body. Whatever the analgesic was it worked very quickly he thought as the pain quickly became bearable.

“You will need to remain here in this position for another hour. Once we are certain the anesthesia has completely left your system and there are no complications we will move you to a recovery room. Until then why don’t you close your eyes and try to rest.

The next he opened his eyes he had returned to the room he Lestrade had been escorted to after their introduction to the Holmes brothers. He was ensconced in the bed farthest from the door, exactly the one he had waited patiently on before whatever happened in stage two. The room had changed somewhat in his absence, No longer completely, uniformly, white, his side of the room now tinted a soft blue while the other half resembled - he frowned a bit – wood paneling? There were also additional occupants in the room. Sitting in a chair arranged next to his bed for sole purpose was the dark haired member of the bickering duo: Sherlock.

“You‘re awake. I was told that I should converse with you for several minutes after you awoke but not to expect complete coherency as of yet. I suppose we can keep the conversation simple and basic until the rest of your mental faculties are available. So did you know that there are 243 different types of tobacco ash which can be classified in sub categories by -?”

“Huh?” John blinked mind still fogged with sleep and fuzzy from the anesthesia

“Do try and keep up John, I fear for the intelligence of our children if you cannot follow a simple conversation.” Sherlock sighed

“Sherlock right?” John let the name of his roll around his brain for a minute before allowing it to exit his mouth. It felt okay not great but possible and workable under the right conditions.

“Yes John?’ Sherlock encouraged with a false looking smile

“When did the walls change?” That seemed like a safer topic than the other one offered; a lecture on tobacco ash. Sherlock blinked, startled out of his monologue.

“We chose the color scheme while you were in the procedure room. We weren’t sure what you and Georg would prefer so guessed based on our own preferences.

“S’ better than the white, no longer looks like the inside of marshmallow” His eyes were beginning to drift shut again of their own accord.

“I am glad you think so John” Sherlock whispered as he drifted back to sleep.

*****

He was getting the hang of the situation he supposed as he awoke for the fourth time. Still in the same blue and wood room, he felt much more like the person he was several days or, perhaps weeks ago when this all started. Time he realized was difficult to keep track of when you were in a facility with no clocks or windows. The second bed was occupied again as well. DI Lestrade had been moved into the room sometime after he had fallen into natural sleep the second time. Still pale he too appeared to be sleeping a normal sleep.

“Good morning gentleman” it was Nurse Drill Sargent this time

“How are we feeling today?” “Human” after all it was apparently morning without some form of caffeine and he had not eaten in a decent amount of time.

“The agenda for today is solid food and if that is tolerated, and the tests come back with good results, we will allow you to leave your bed, walk around the floor and to use the restroom without assistance.” As Nurse Drill Sargent made the list, one of the in the wall panels changed to display the day’s tasks.

Breakfast, it turned out consisted of boiled eggs and oatmeal with no condiments. As much has he had hoped for some sort of caffeine loaded product, none was supplied. Both men stared in disgust at the offering.

“You would think given the money thrown around this place that they would at least offer us a decent fry up “Greg poked a spoon at his porridge in distaste.

“I would just like a decent cup of tea” John replied wistfully as he dutifully ate the bland food the orderly had provided. He had eaten worse after all in that hot sandy place. At least here, the food was well prepared.

Once again, as if by magic, (or more likely, the really good surveillance system installed in the room), the orderly appeared almost as soon as the last bite was eaten followed by Nurse Drill Sargent, an ultrasound machine and a Doctor that John had never seen before. The doctor did not bother to introduce himself, another odd feature of this facility but merely consulted with the nurse and the tech before erecting a privacy screen in front of John’s chest. He jumped a little when the warmed ultrasound gel was applied to his abdomen without warning. After a few minutes and another murmured conversation, the screen was removed and the process was repeated on Lestrade. As with his own examination, the equipment was turned in such a way that he could not see the results.

“You know we do have the right to know what procedure was performed and the results” John reminded the unnamed doctor quietly.

The man paused. “Dr. Stamford will be available to answer any of your questions this afternoon when a member of the counseling staff and your selected is on hand to assist with the consultation. For now “he continued “We would like you to try standing with assistance.” A buzzer magically appeared on his bedside table. “When you need to use the lavatory, use the button. A staff member will be around once every hour to assist you with walking. Between the walking tours we will permit you reading material or some television if you wish. Tell the nurse what you desire to watch and she will program the view screen for you.”

“Why not just let us browse the channels and find our own programs?” Greg asked There was no reply.

 The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon passed in a blur of football, slow circuits around the short closed hall leaning heavily on a male orderly while Nurse Drill Sargent supervised their every move. They encountered no more carriers the classification that John was slowly getting used to being a member of but they did hear several murmured conversations behind doors that were kept firmly closed while they were making their hourly laps.

“I wonder what all the secrecy is about.” Greg mused out loud as they were assisted back into their beds, the door firmly shut behind them and the wall unit tuned once again to a game in progress. The games were odd in a way. You could tell they were current, scores flashed on the bottom just as with any other broadcast but no mention of time or date ever appeared on the screen. Manchester was wining again. John noted. As the last goal of the game, a rather unspectacular shot from a second string fullback in the last few seconds of the second half put the score so far ahead as to be an embarrassment for the vanquished, their door once again opened to admit Mike Stamford, the bickering brothers (for some reason the name stuck in his mind) and a non-descript sort of person with a mild demeanor that screamed therapist louder than tattooing the word on ones forehead.

“Now I assume you both have questions as to what the procedure you just underwent entails” Mike stated blandly as Sherlock took up his place once again in the arm chair where he had perched last night like a gargoyle.

“My friend over here will be available to speak with you anytime you feel the need until you are discharged. After discharge you will be given a monthly appointment schedule to assist with your transition”. They stared at him for an uncomfortable moment after the entry level speech. “Right. “ Mike cleared his throat. “By now you will have realized that your basic physical characteristics are unchanged. They are, I assure you, in complete working order. In order to allow you produce children, two things had to happen. First, the necessary organs needed to be added to your physiology. Because of the nature of the procedure we used some of your bone marrow stem cells to grow the necessary uterus and ovaries in situ. This is now located near where your appendix once was with a modified cervical opening in your lower intestine. The second part of the procedure was to acclimate your bodies to your selected’s antibodies. This was the trickiest part of the process actually and should be completed in a few more days. Once we are sure everything is in working order and the acclimation process is complete you will be released to go home with your selected.”

John mulled the information. “How do you keep bacterial infections out of the new organs given its location?”

“The cervix and uterus have an environment that will only accept genetic material from your selected the antibodies serve to relax the opening for a specific amount of time allowing conception.”

“And Birth?”

“Cesarean naturally” well in a way that was a relief.

“These antibodies are the reason why you can’t reproduce with members of your own species aren’t they?” John asked shrewdly

Mike nodded “We don’t know why but introducing a second set of antibodies into an invader system causes instant anaphylaxis in all individuals of our species. The effect has gotten stronger in the past ten years. As for average human, for the most part their physiology reacts like a null field – nothing no reaction what so ever. Some react to the antibodies like another member of our species and others carry a factor that allows them to acclimate to the antibodies of one invader permitting procreation.”

“Do you really call yourselves the Invaders?” John asked idly as he processed the new information. He refused to look at Mike’s face. There had been something there during the speech. An edge of emotion laying just below the surface. Something had happened because of this discovery something Mike was not talking about. Then it hit him. Mike had been married. John remembered the invitation he had received in Afghanistan and the accompanying note. The one that said they hope he could make it if he were on leave but if not they understood. Keep well Mike had said. Stay safe.

Mike had been matched with a carrier last night.

This whole time Mike, who had been thrilled to marry their fellow med student, exceedingly proud of her accomplishments and not the least be concerned that they were childless after all he had said at the pub one evening two years ago when John had been on leave, we can always adopt, had not once said a word about the woman who had dominated every conversation that had not entailed studying in med school.

Mike who was no longer wearing a wedding ring.

Before John could ask the question, before he could find out what they really were, these other beings that now ruled their world with such an iron hand that they could pluck people from their everyday ordinary lives and arbitrarily change their body functions without permission, Lestrade, who had been silent during the entire lecture erupted.

“So what about us yeah? What about our former lives? Our careers? Do we just disappear now? Are to be treated like prisoners in some old time harem?” He snarled Strangely, it was Mycroft, the older brother who answered the verbal assault.

“As soon as you are sufficiently healed both mentally and physically from the procedures, you will be released to our care and allowed to return to your former duties as time allows.”

“So if I end up-“Lestrade swallowed before he was able to continue “Pregnant how I explain that? I can’t just tell the DCI that in need maternity leave!”

“When you are discovered to be fulfilling your role as my carrier Gregory” Mycroft placed hard emphasis on the word when “the DCI will be notified that you have been selected for an ultra-secret undercover operation in another part of the country. Really do you think we would not have thought these things through?”

“The People is the translation” Sherlock piped up after Mycroft finished his speech.

“The People?” John somewhere had lost the thread of the conversation.

“Sort of like the Navajo Indians in the Southwest Untied States refer to themselves as the Dineh or People in English, we refer to ourselves as the People as well although for the most part the word is really unpronounceable to most normals so Invaders works just as well. It has less bad connotations than the moniker Visitors and since we really have no way or no intention of leaving it probably is far more accurate."

“Make sense I suppose. So why the security and why the separation? I would think you would want us to meet more of carriers” John stumbled over the word slightly. He found himself surprisingly numb about the whole situation and in some ways resigned.

“Security for the most part.” Sherlock surprisingly answered and then hesitated and glanced at Mike for a movement. When Mike nodded he continued

“The process in its transitional phases can be… difficult” he said delicately

“Difficult?” Greg snarled. After a full day of watching football they were officially on a first name basis. The therapist finally entered the conversation.

“It’s not just a physical process though that can be difficult enough but a mental one as well. We try to select individuals who are more like to be comfortable with the demands that their new situations will make on the psyche but sometimes” He closed his eyes. “Sometimes situations occur or conditions were undiagnosed and the transition exacerbates the issues.”

“What do you mean choose? “

“We started in the UK for a reason. The program is also working in Denmark, Holland, Canada – “Mike started

“In other words the program started in countries with very liberal cultures where individuals would be more likely to accept a same sex pairing if necessary” Mycroft said crisply.

“We are slowly expanding it in the United States in the more liberal areas and are slowly working with the religious leaders of the more conservative countries to find ways to make the concept acceptable to their ideologies” the therapist continued. “But the process is slow going and some individuals” He closed his eyes briefly in regret for a moment “Are unable to come to terms with their new identities even with a strong support network.”

Ah.

“We’ve also noticed that there is an increased chance of side effects during the transition phrase if carriers in transition are exposed to other individuals who are in the process of acclimation to foreign antibodies” Mike contributed

“Then how come John and I can share a room?” “Sherlock and Mycroft are brothers” breathed John “This is “

“In a way you are a very special pair” agreed Mike with a smile “We were not sure if this would work and at the first sign of distress we would have separated you but apparently carriers for related individuals do not cross contaminate.”

“So what happens now?”

“Right now you rest, enjoy the company of your selected perhaps by playing a few board games” suggested the counselor “eat the food prescribed and allow your bodies and minds to adjust to the new situation”

“Tea?” John said wistfully Mike brought his record up on a tablet briefly

“Breakfast and lunch seemed to be fine so we can try you on tea. Starting tomorrow you will be allowed some choice in your meals provided there are no setbacks”. A cart with a selection of board games was wheeled into the room.

“Enjoy your games gentlemen, the tea will be around in a few moments”. As Mike and the counselor left room, the four remaining occupants arranged themselves in a way that was best conducive to game playing given the circumstances.

“What do you do for a living?” John asked in an effort to make light conversation as Cluedo game was assembled. Sherlock had chosen the game with glee while both Mycroft and Greg had eyed it suspiciously.

“I am a consulting detective” Sherlock announced as he rolled the dice and two of the three occupants rolled their eyes

“Consulting detective?”

“I consult on cases that baffle Scotland Yard, I am the only one in the world” Sherlock announced proudly

“Bit of an egotist are you?” John asked

“You don’t know the half of it” muttered Greg

“And you Mycroft?” John plowed on determined to make the best of the situation

“I merely occupy a minor position in the British Government” He stated blandly

“He is the British government although at this point he’s really the EU” Sherlock corrected rudely “when he’s not being the secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis”

“You said they were always like this?” John asked Greg

He nodded sadly.

Cluedo John soon discovered was not the best game to play with the world’s only consulting detective, a minor government official and a DI. Halfway into the game, Sherlock announced the only possible solution was that the victim was the killer which was not possible according to the rules. This set off, for lack of a better word an epic sulk on the part of Sherlock, a round of admonishments from Mycroft that he was not making a very good impression on his carrier and “do try to act like an adult brother dear” and two separate requests for something stronger than tea (both denied by the staff with a frown).

Monopoly it turned out was not much of a better choice for the opposite reason. What Cluedo was to Sherlock, Monopoly was apparently to Mycroft. Used to manipulating the outcomes of the stock market and everyday real-estate transactions on a daily basis, Mycroft, it turned out had trouble separating fact from the fictional game universe. Finally, Greg and John formed a limited partnership under the table with the express purpose of shutting down Mycroft’s empire. With a little unwitting assistance from Sherlock who had finally given up on his sulking in order to join the game, Mycroft was forced to sell half of his properties and eventually lost to his carrier after an epic battle for Boardwalk and Park Place.

“That is enough for today I believe “ Mycroft said briskly as he sorted the pieces into their proper places while John organized the deeds. It was true, he was exhausted and yet in the scheme of things he really had not accomplished much today. Part of the healing process he realized, he would probably be like this for the next couple of weeks while his body recovered. Sherlock looked up from the phone that had once again appeared in his hands. He was frowning at the screen .

“John, how long is the incubation period for tetanus in an average human?” He asked

John frowned. “Depends. 8 to 10 days but most adults have been vaccinated against tetanus unless they are allergic to a component of the vaccine such as albumin. “

“Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed “you are not supposed to be”

“Is this about the Connie Price incident?” Lestrade asked Sherlock nodded. He flashed a picture on his mobile towards the men “See something wrong with this picture?”

John frowned at the woman’s forehead for a minute.

”Those look like needle marks.”

“Exactly” Sherlock approved.

“What so someone injected the tetanus directly into her forehead?”

“Mm no I don’t think so..”

“Will you put that phone away! Honestly remember the doctors said nothing disturbing or stressful when we visit!”

“Oh Mycroft look at them they look happier than they have in t”

“Time for Bed!” Nurse Drill Sargent second shift announced firmly.

“Gentlemen you will be expected to return tomorrow night.” The argument ceased instantly as the brothers turned their ire on the nurse. She merely stared at them until, like the children they were imitating, they capitulated and filed obediently out of the room. Instantly an orderly came to retrieve the games and other accumulated deleterious from the visit while the nurse assisted them with getting settled for the night.

“Remember gentlemen. If you need anything, hit the button on your bedside” she reminded them before closing the door firmly.

The screams were horrific.

Woken out of a sound slumber, John groped frantically for a gun that did not exist while his roommate did the same.

“What do think?” John whispered to Greg as they heard the sound of a lock click into place.

Seconds later the door knob rattled. Greg, like John had started to swing his legs over the side of the bed when the screams coalesced into words.

“No, you can’t make me - No more” The words were cut off abruptly by as thud and the movement of sound a body being shifted away from the door.

Seconds later a staff member opened the door and checked their progress.

“Nothing for you to worry about gentlemen, you really should not be attempting to get out of bed without a staff member present. Try to get some more sleep and make sure to ring us if you need anything”.

The implication was clear. The crisis was over. Go back to bed. Go to sleep it is none of your concern. Both men swung their legs back on to the hospital beds. Neither man, however, got much rest before the orderly announce their breakfast options.


	3. Home agan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrive at Baker street. This chapter may contain some controversial ideas in it - the ideas come from working with children. I explain in the notes. Update Notes: Classes have started so updates may be spotty until May. Please be patient with me. I promise I will finish the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I

John surveyed the mess with distaste. Piles of papers , boxes of realia and beakers of who knew what littered every surface flat surface of the flat with reckless abandon. The kitchen had been converted into a lab of some sort and would probably need a professional cleaning before it was fit to use for its original purpose.

This was his new home.

They had been released this morning after breakfast with no warning any lead up just the bickering duo appearing suddenly with two sets of street clothes and announcement that it was time (finally!) to go home. But not what they had originally called home. Those were lost forever. Instead he was escorted to a bohemian flat in central London with a very nice land lady for whom Sherlock had once done a favor and rather old fashion wallpaper

“Bedroom and bath are down the hall, there is a second bedroom I have rented for us upstairs” Sherlock announced as he removed his coat. “Your things were delivered a while ago so you will not need to worry about the tedious process of packing and moving”. He handed John a sheaf of papers. “Your mail” he announced before wandering over to the desk to consult the laptop on an apparently very important matter.

His mail it turned out contained a bill of sale for his flat near his previous job, A letter confirming said jobs acceptance of his resignation which included a congratulatory note from the rest of the staff on being accepted into the prestigious post graduate invader trauma course at St Bart’s and confirmation of his offer of employment as a part-t time A&E attending at the same hospital. There was also a schedule of upcoming counseling and medical appointments with a local GP one Sarah Sawyer to be resettled but not missed if the dates were inconvenient. His life rearranged. The kept husband, John wondered briefly how far he would get if walked out the door and kept going.

“If you are really lucky the tube station but most likely you would not make the corner” Sherlock said absently

“What?” “You were trying to figure out how far you could get if you’re tried to disappear. The answer? Nowhere.”

“Your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“You were spending far too long looking through your mail. When you came to the bank statement with the proceeds of the flat sale you stopped. You also looked at the door and at the street below in an attempt to calculate your route. Now come along we don’t have time for your escape attempt. There is a body”

“Excuse me?”

“Somebody died John the Yard is clueless and, according to your records you are a doctor and a very good one. I need an assistant so if you don’t mind danger comes with me.”

“Do I have a Choice?” He asked bitterly

Sherlock cocked his head to one side. “Yes” he said finally “you do. We may be forced by the constraints of biology into a relationship of sorts we had would have contemplated on our own but the nature of the relationship itself is our choice. We can be friends, lovers or merely breeding partners. “

John thought about it “Dangerous huh? “

“Possibly.”

“Let’s Go”

###############################

The scene was horrific. It had been obvious the victim had been dead for several days before being discovered, not at their home as originally thought but in a stranger’s house. The owner was on vacation. Some place warm and topical where the inhabitants of a more northern island tended to congregate during the colder months. They had been gone merely a week when, at as was neighborly and proper, an elderly lady had come to collect the mail and check the house for issues. That was when she had smelled the body and remembered. Hysterical she called 999 to report a person trapped in a collapsed building and given the address – the correct one at first but then demanded to know why the air raid sirens had not gone off properly. Confused, the dispatcher sent a car round to check on the old lady who was obviously senile but was not. She had led them directly to the body and the wept at the thought of another person losing their life in bombings. She was sedated now and unlike many of the older generation, she would be getting help for the memories of a war that never quite left her. Realistically, the man, (20’s, nonsmoker, three – no four cats, in a committed relationship) was killed at another location entirely and dropped in a random house.

“Do you have his name?” John asked idly” “No – he may have been clubbing and - “a Detective Sargent started

“Not dressed correctly for Clubbing” corrected Sherlock frowned taking in the victim’s simple jeans and jumper.

“Dressed for errands shopping – “

“Grocery.” John interrupted 

“How did you-“ a mouse haired man asked

“I found the list. From the looks of it he either has children or its two younger men living together.”

Both police officers turned to him with a frown. “Coco Puffs and Fruit loops” John explained. The only time you ever see those items together is if you are near young children or young men.

“Look whoever you are when the DI gets here…”Began the sergeant

“He is my assistant” Sherlock interrupted “ And I think you will find that your DI will be fine - Ah there he is now”

It was Lestrade. John had known that Sherlock works as a consultant for the Yard, had worked with Lestrade on a professional basis but now that he was seeing him outside that odd room how was he supposed to react? Were they old friends?

“Thank God you came back Lestrade, I was despairing on getting any DI with a reasonably decent head on their shoulders. I trust you make every effort not to get injured again in the line of duty?” Sherlock demanded Greg’s cover story. John had wondered how Greg, who was now to live with Mycroft, was going to resume is position seamlessly. Greg a pointed at John

“And he is?” So we were to play I don’t know you in public right now instead of ‘I have spent the past indeterminate amount of time sharing a room while recovering from a life altering event and listening to the squabbles of children masquerading as consenting adults’.

“John Watson”. With the exception of the body this whole scene was beginning to trigger déjà vu in him. He half expected to see the ever present scrub clad staff members with no names come strolling down the hall.

“John take a look the body and tell me what you see.” John squatted down next to the corpse. It was beginning to get ripe after several days. Even if the heat had been turned down while the owner was on vacation, the constant above freezing temperature had begun the decay process. The odd thing was nothing looked wrong. There was no wound, no bruising pattern only a scar. He recognized the scar. He had one. So did Greg. It was a small scar on the back of his neck near his spine where they had inserted a medi port to begin the antibody acclimation. It was an unmistakable scar.

“Sherlock, Greg, Take a look at this. “ John pointed to the scar. Sherlock hissed when he understood the significance.

“Very good John” murmured Sherlock who shot Lestrade knowing glance.

“Pack the body for transport to ST. Bart’s for Autopsy.”

The Mouse haired man – Anderson one of the constables had called him – Protested until Lestrade shut him up with a glance.

“Process the rest of the evidence on the scene. Donavan, see if you can track down the owner. Sherlock –“

But Sherlock was already leaving in a swirl of wool demanding John hurry up as he wanted to be at the morgue when the body arrived. John just shrugged and followed after him like a somewhat lost duckling.

##################

St. Bart’s had changed significantly since he had trained there years before. The labs had been updated and there was now a wing devoted to invader (John was going find a new name for them eventually) medicine. He would be starting his own course work there next week and his work in the A&E a week later. But the classrooms and the floors devoted to the living were not his target today. Today he was headed toward the morgue. The Pathologist in charge of the morgue at St. Bart’s was a slight thing, mousy in appearance and slightly uncertain when dealing with the living. John recognized her instantly from that first night. She had been chatted up by one of the beautiful dark haired women later revealed to be Mycroft’s assistant.

“Ah Molly, just the person I wished to see. We have a victim arriving shortly for autopsy and I wish to watch the proceedings. We will also need a blood sample run through the database for antigen identification for identification purposes.” The woman nodded a slightly confused look on her face as she obediently started to gather the tools necessary of her work.

“You can track the antigens?” “They are not as unique as DNA but close – we can narrow it down to families and unlike a full DNA test which takes weeks even if it’s fast tracked, the basic antigen test only takes twenty minutes and can be done on site. “

“In the meantime do you have anything interesting for me?” Sherlock’s eyes had brightened with the prospect of a medical oddity. “A 90 year old with a vestigial twin in his abdomen” Molly replied leading the way to the new corpse. John was left staring after his - partner? – (he refused to continue calling him his “selected” and they were not married so the options for their relationship status were kind of slim) and wondered once again what he had unwittingly gotten himself into.

The murder victim arrived an hour after they did. Perfect timing as far as Sherlock was concerned as it gave him plenty of time to view the medical oddity before getting down working. The antigen blood test it turned out was a fairly simple procedure based in part on the blood matching process. After the test Molly, as she insisted John call her, showed him how to use the enhanced features in the medical database that his new status as a carrier gave him access too. Michal Jefferies was one of the first generation of successful carriers. Matched at eighteen, he had gone on to complete a doctorate in psychology while successfully bearing not one but two children. He and his partner lived in one of the many upper scale quiet villages that dotted the countryside around London. Dr. Jefferies maintained a practice in the village but commuted to the city to assist with a second practice one day a week. His partner was a professor at the University of London. Sherlock texted the information to Lestrade and then flitted of to another part of the morgue to in hopes of procuring some sort of material for what he termed a “vitally important experiment “

“So what was it like for you” Molly asked quietly.

“Unbelievable at first and then I dunno kind of like a dream for the first few days. I just got out today. What about you?”

“I’ve been back for three weeks, with female carriers it’s just a matter of antigen acclimation”

“Three weeks ?! What is today’s date?” John felt the blood drain out of his face.

Molly pointed at the bottom right hand corner of her screen. There just like on all newer computers was displayed the date and time. He hadn’t noticed it earlier when they were looking up the victim in the database as he was too focused on the portal’s information. He had been gone three months. There had been no windows in the hospital to track sunlight in the “hospital” nor had there been any clocks or access to computers. Sherlock had been careful this morning too he had realized, he had not turned on the telly nor had he had access to a smart mobile. In fact, the cabbie had not even turned on the radio. The letters had been dated the day he had left the surgery so there had been no clue there either. He and Greg had made a game of guessing how much time had passed, trying to track the days in that windowless room. He had guessed a month, maybe a month and a half at best. Unless he had been kept in a medical coma for an extended amount of time to account for the organ growth?

“It was a shock when I came back too.” She continued. “ I didn’t realize how long I’d been gone. Nearly two full months. Most of it spent sleeping. Anthea was nice afterward at least. She recuperated in the same room as I did – when its two women they have some changes to go through as well.”

“Three months “ John whispered “Well that’s not so bad” Molly said optimistically “That’s quite normal for male carries with no adjustment issues”

“Adjustment issues?” Molly nodded. “Adjustment issues, sometimes new carriers have trouble after the surgery with the concept that they will be bearing a child. I mean it’s explained to them beforehand but until it’s a done deal and they are actually ready to start interacting with their selc-“

“Let’s just settle on partner its sounds better shall we?” John decided after selected sounded like they were picked out of a grocery store.“ I thought the meet and greet allowed people some choice.”

“It does, as long as you are not a definitive match. Those people don’t really get a choice.” Molly looked away “It’s kind of like a whirlwind romance in a way and then I think for some when the actual reality sets in it’s too hard to bear.”

“Ah”

“Anyway if there are signs there may be issues they have councilors that can help with the process and they are moved to a longer term facility to work through the issues”

Sherlock swooped back into the room with the look of someone for whom Christmas had come early and John briefly wondered what he had procured that was so exciting.

“Molly, may prevail to have you deliver the cooler to my flat?” Sherlock asked before e turning to John “we need to go. Lestrade has located the victim’s partner”. ###############

The house was a typical one for the village, quaint, old fashion on the outside, redone to accommodate modern conveniences on the inside and, if John had ever married, just the type of house he would have loved to own. Dr. Alistair Jefferies was an Economist at the University of London and, not what he expected. Only perhaps a year or two older than his partner, he looked more like a primary school teacher than a college professor . It was obvious that he was comfortable around children and the children in the house were loved. There was evidence of them everywhere from the books on the side table to the toys strewn with wild abandon across the floor. This house definitely was a family house.

“We are sorry for your loss” Lestrade said quietly after introducing them to the widower. The children, were at friends’ houses for the night. There had been evidence of a planned romantic evening.

“I – we were one of the first of the second generation matches. We weren’t a definitive match but we were close enough biologically and we got that we decided to give it a go and it worked.” He whispered taking a deep shuddering breath before continuing “ Michael always said in a way the program saved him. He was from the wrong side of the tracks and this, this forced him to finish school and go to Uni. Before we knew it we had two children and he wanted to help with the program.”

“What did he do?” John asked

“One day a week he was an adjustment counselor – he helped carriers in crisis. In fact he invented the field and trained all the other therapists but the worse cases always saw him. “

“What else were you working on” Sherlock said quietly

“Is it Okay? “ Dr. Jefferies asked nervously “Sherlock nodded and John wondered briefly where he fit in the power structure of the world.

“I was working on the wealth redistribution and stabilization project. Now that we have debunked that trickle down nonsense we are trying to shift some of the wealth slowly back into middle class hands and then create unrepealable laws that will disallow a shift upwards again.”

“Was he working on anything “

“Something more controversial. “ Dr. Jefferies looked away

“The licensing team?” Sherlock asked quietly and the other men looked at him in surprise before he explained “We are working on a parental certification that will be required before couples are allowed to have children. Eventually everybody will be given long term reversible birth control that will be deactivated after passing the certification exam. It will be a psychological and skills test mostly. The hardest part is taking into account cultural and temperamental differences. The goal is not to produce an army of droids but to ensure the safety of children. No more shaken baby syndrome or abused kids. We are testing it and the training classes on ourselves first”.

“That’s-“ Greg started and then thought about the idea.

Dr. Jefferies nodded “Strangely enough the strongest proponents of this certification are educators, public librarians, health care workers and police officers”.

“In other words, anybody who works with children” John said

Sherlock agreed “The idea will be done with a carrot in mind a well. The government will give full support to couples who have passed certification including childcare and university education.”

“But still you don’t think –“

“It will be hugely controversial when it is enacted but in the long term it will be worth it.”

“Have there been threats to any one on either team?” Dr. Jefferies shook his head. “No but our goal is to do in a way that is so subtle people will not notice it. The education portion of his project has already started in the lower grades. We think that by the time the children who entered primary school this year are in second form, we can add a parenting portion to the A levels and certification with O levels so that the can have the Birth control reversed when they are ready. Because they are part of the parenting classes their Uni will be free which will also help with the wealth redistribution. “

“Why?” John asked

Sherlock stared off in the distance before answering. “Stability and basic humanity. Everybody should be respected for what they do. The world has forgotten the lesson learned by the Russian revolution and we are very quickly creating those same conditions on a much wider scale. Since the governments would not do anything on their own we stepped in.”

“Those two projects would be enough to get a lot of people on your case” Greg said thoughtfully. “We’ll start checking out the usual suspects and go from there. We will have a liaison officer assigned to your case by tonight. Do you need any help with the children?” Dr. Jefferies shook his head. “His mother was coming for a visit tomorrow anyway. I warned about what happened and she said she’ll stay as long as needed. “

“Do not hesitate to contact us if anything changes” John said

The older man raised his hand “you are just out of the facility both of you. I recognize the signs. If anything I should be saying that to you” his voice broke a little “He would have. You need to get your own relationships settled before you help others. We will be fine. “ He grinned slight “If you would like the babysitting practice, come back in a couple of weeks and we will talk”.

“We will let ourselves out.” Announced Greg

John was silent on the way back to Baker Street and for most of the evening. Sherlock for the most part left him alone with his thoughts except for the one inquiry concerning whether he wanted Thai or Indian for dinner. There had been quite a bit to process in one day concerning the nature of his new life.

“I am going to bed “John announced suddenly exhausted.

Sherlock stirred.“Bedroom is down the hall. I will join you eventually”

He had changed in the bathroom for privacy. Even though he had been confined to the hospital for three (3?!) months, Sherlock had never really spent the entire night alone with him. Now, things changed. How long would it be before he would be expected to have sex with a man he barely knew?

Then it hit him. How was this different from any other dating situation? They would have sex eventually but it would be mutually consensual nothing less. Until then well, arranged marriages had happened since the beginning of time - they could spend a couple of more weeks getting to know each other in a more normal situation before anything more intimate happened right?

Gods, he sounded like a hero from one of the trashy romance novels his mother used to read.

And with that thought, John closed his eyes firmly and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f you ask anyone who works with children for a long period of time, about the concept of parenting licenses they will come out in favor of the idea. The problem with the concept is that no one can figure out how to do it in a way that will not punish people with out resources - which is a shame because some of the best parents I ever worked with were in the poorest neighborhoods while some the worst were in the wealthiest. The other idea - that we are forgetting the lesson learned in the Russian revolution is also true. If you look at the economic conditions that are developing across the globe with a very small portion of people holding the the majority of the wealth and very little room for upward mobility - we are in real trouble if the governments don't wake up and and start accessing the tax structures soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some tasteful (I hope) smut at the end more Psuedo science some real science - the information on AIDS and potassium poisoning is real- the rest not so much. I will be deleting my browser history just in case :)

John held the jumper up for inspection. It was tiny, a miniature version of an adult’s jumper perfect for a toddler or perhaps a large infant. He marveled at it for a moment before taking a deep calming breath and calling for is partner of several months.

“Sherlock?” can I have a word with you. John had learned that using a mild non-descript tone worked better than jumping feet first into an argument.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope for a second and over at the toddler sized jumper and winced. “I can explain –“

“Did you look at the care labels before doing the laundry?” John was now struggling to keep his even tone while surveying the laundry carnage. It perhaps had been a VERY BAD IDEA to assign this week’s laundry to Sherlock but he had been working extra hours a Bart’s due to staff illness and had several assignments due plus assisting Sherlock with cases - to put it bluntly, he was running out of clothes so he had handed the laundry to his partner and told him in no uncertain terms to see to its completion.

“I had everything separated in different bags and the bags labeled with washing instructions so that the clothes would be safe” His voice was rising now, as were his suspicions. John had done the presort on the theory that Sherlock, who arbitrarily decided what information to keep and what to discard probably thought domestic chores were a waste of time.

“Your method seemed inefficient” Sherlock announced loftily “And not cost effective so I combined the loads into larger ones”

“Ruining half the items in the process.” John interrupted blandly “So this is what is going to happen. You will sort through the clothes and figure out what is still wearable and put that in one pile. Everything else you will put in a second pile. You will then go through the second pile take note of the items and replace EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM.”

Sherlock squawked “But I am in the middle of-”

“I quite frankly don’t care what you are in the middle of Sherlock; I would like something to wear to work tomorrow. Now I am going to meet Greg at the Pub” announced John “I expect there to be enough clothes in wearable condition in the flat that I will be able to go to work for the next week”. With that statement John grabbed his jacket and left the flat.

***********************  
If they were a normal couple this would be considered the honeymoon period John though wryly as he walked through the brisk London autumn air to a local pub he and Greg used for their “Holmes family support group”. But it wasn’t, it was an adjustment period for two total strangers thrown together by a quirk of biology who now had to figure out a life as a family unit – or a future family unit as the case may be. The adjustment counseling helped quite a bit he admitted to himself. He no longer felt completely adrift in a sea of a new world but still.

Ruined laundry, running around London at all hours, going for days without sleep for the first time since he was an Intern, body parts in the refrigerator (now in a specifically labeled bin and only on one shelf so as not to contaminate the edible food thank you very much), and who knows what in that one cupboard that John will never every willing open again. Yet strangely, John would not change it for the world. Nor would he give up waking up with an Octopus wrapped around him in a platonic way on those occasions when Sherlock decided he would actually sleep. Sherlock had announced, the first morning when he had woken up with a bed partner that he would be patient, after all they hardly knew each other and this was a lifelong commitment.

That in its own way had helped.

The pub was a small quiet one tucked away on a side street far from the prying eyes of tourist and just shabby enough to escape the notice of young people looking for a trendy place to call their own. The beer was good and the staff was pleasant. Greg had staked out a booth in a corner that was out of the way enough to afford quiet conversation while still allowing both of them the ability to view the match.

“Cheers mate “John offered as he slid into the booth. “I have just made a monumental mistake”

“Sherlock did the shopping?” Greg asked

“Worse, Sherlock did the laundry” John replied and Greg winced. “Want me to grab something from the bar?”

“Already got you covered” Greg gestured to the two glasses on the table. One looked different from the normal selection.

“Is that –“John asked.

Greg winced a little “its cola, my test came back positive today.”

“That’s good news right?” Greg and Mycroft had known each other for years and in some ways had been drifting towards a relationship during their entire acquaintance without really being cognizant of that fact. Once out of the facility they needed less adjustment time than most of the couples and seemed to settle into a comfortable routine.

“Just, well the Jefferies case is still open and even with Sherlock there has been no real progress. I have several other cases I am working on and this is not the best time to take leave.”

“How far along are you?” John asked quietly

“They think maybe a month, month and a half. The symptoms are slightly different so they just administer a test every time I see the doctor.”

John understood the reasoning. Invader (okay he had started calling them Zims in his own head after an American cartoon he had watched in the hospital while recovering from the wound that had ended his army service). He had inquired about taking the Carrier course as well after he had finished this semester but had been told in no uncertain terms that he would have to wait until after the birth of his first child. When he asked why the instructor mentioned adjustment and changes and mumbled something about being better off not knowing. So John had done the only thing he could think of under the circumstances.

He had stolen a library book from the medical library’s restricted section when Sherlock was causing a scene. Granted he had manipulated (alright realistically Sherlock had probably figured John was up to something and went along with it). But slipping the book into his bag and out the door had been surprisingly easy. Sherlock had given him a knowing glance afterword but said nothing.

He understood the lack of information they were given now.

The basic information they were given in the facility remained the same. How the organs were grown was shear genius, guaranteeing no rate of rejection. The subtle changes required to the body chemistry to ensure a safe pregnancy without adversely changing the outward sexual characteristics of a male carrier were so delicate that John was amazed there were not more side effects to the procedure. 

Until that is, he read about the survival statistics.

In the first generations fully 99% of the carries died either during anti body transfusion or during the pregnancy itself. After some more research the Zims discovered that just having the breeder factor was not enough, a carrier had to be compatible with the person in order to survive the procedure. When one tested positive as a carrier, their blood was re tested for sensitivity to broader types of antigens in hopes of narrowing down a perfect match. When a group of close matches were ready for the selection process the blood was tested a third time against specific individuals. If an exact match was found, or at least a group of close matches the individual was collected for the process. With the new blood tests the medically induced coma to reduce the chance of seizures during the acclimation process the chances of surviving the initial change rose to 75%.

The pregnancy was still classified a high risk.

“Have they told you how long the will allow you to work? “ John asked

Greg grimaced “Myc wanted me to ‘leave for my mission’ today but according to my doctor, as long as I am comfortable and there are no problems I can work for another two months.”

“That’s good then it will give you some time to close thing up” John soothed

Greg shook his head “not nearly enough and that time is only if something does not go wrong.”

“So how does it feel? “ John asked trying to steer the subject back to a more positive light.

Greg stared off into the distance for a second. “Strange. I know what the standard pregnancy symptoms the nausea, the mood swings and what not. I was kind of prepared for those to start happening. What was I told? Watch out for intense vertigo maybe some nausea and cramps. I asked for some sort of leaflet you know like the kind they give pregnant women but the doctor just smiled and said don’t worry about it, I would be seeing her weekly from now on and she would tell me what to look out for as the pregnancy progressed. Have you learned anything?”

For one brief moment John thought about sharing the information from his clandestine research. One of the facts that was always stressed, however in the prenatal care section was the need for a stress free environment for the carrying parent. So he looked at his friend (brother in law?) and lied.  
“Not much I asked to take the pertinent course but was told I would have to wait until after we had kids”

-“Ah-“Greg stared moodily at his cola for a few minutes until the mood was saved by his mobile alerting him to a call.

John waited patiently for the call to finish. As Greg stood up to retrieve his coat and pay the barman he looked over his shoulder. “Another body has been found. Sherlock will meet us at the scene”  
*******  
It was another carrier. A woman this time with the same horrible MO. No marks on the body and once again left in a temporarily abandoned space.  
“He wants them to be found” Sherlock said with frustration as he cased location where the body was placed. “They are being killed elsewhere and dumped in places they will be found, but not too quickly. No signs of a struggle so obviously they either know the people who are kidnapping them or they are in some position of authority or pseudo authority. There were no obvious toxins –“Sherlock stopped and whirled staring at a decidedly woozy Lestrade.

“Have them transport the body to ST Bart’s and contact what’s that fellow’s name Dimock? Ask him to meet us there as well.”

Greg and John exchanged glances and shrugged as Greg’s minions deftly followed Sherlock’s orders. As Greg turned to give additional orders to his staff, he swayed alarmingly.

“Alright?” John asked quietly

“Just dizzy, I will be” Greg swayed again.

“Let’s get you seated. Sherlock” John called to the detective who was vaguely making his way to the door. 

Sherlock spun on his heel and assessed the situation.

“Ah. I will call for assistance after it arrives we will meet Dimock at St Bart’s.” Sherlock turned back to his phone while John translated that sentence to mean “I am calling my brother and you are done working for the duration of you pregnancy.”

“No, I’m fine. Donavan can drive me to St Bart’s. Leave the powers that be out of this.” Greg struggled to his feet with a determined look on his face.  
“Be reasonable Greg if it’s this bad now-“John began

“I will see this through.” Greg said stubbornly and staggered off to an unmarked car to hitch a ride with his DS.

Sherlock shrugged and motioned John to the curb to hail a cab.

As with Dr. Jefferies, Trisha Cathay had led an exemplary and quiet life. Same generation in the selection program, an accountant this time but no ties to any of the clandestine programs run by the Zims (okay as far as John was concerned that name was going to stick). Her partner was an airline pilot of all things who spent an extended time traveling the world. They had two children. In other words there was nothing, other than the selection program that would set them apart from thousands of other couples in the universe. 

But she had been murdered her body had been moved and there was no obvious cause of death. The only thing linking to strange deaths was their evolvement in a program that did not officially exist.

Greg sat in a chair during the autopsy, turning slightly green as Molly carefully weighed the internal organs and kept up a careful narration for her observers. Dimock, The younger DI, turned out to be a Zim who had been transferred to London recently and who would probably one day be in charge of New Scotland Yard – or INTERPOL depending on Mycroft’s whim and the younger man’s talents.

“There seems to be nothing out of the ordinary from the physical examination” Molly announce after she had completed the stitching the body up. I will have to wait for the tox screen which has been fast tracked but if it’s the same person as Dr. Jefferies, I don’t hold out much hope”

Sherlock’s eyes glazed over as he searched through his mental database for untraceable poisons.

“Did you test for potassium overdose?” He asked

Molly started “No but that is very very hard to detect we can add it to the list for this tox screen.”

“What would happen if a second set of antigens were introduced into a carrier?” John asked

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer and then shut it thoughtfully “I don’t know. Once a match is found, we try not to cross contaminate the carriers.”

“Why?” John persisted. There had been little in the textbook about potential reactions to cross contamination yet it had stressed the importance of maintaining isolation during the acclimation process.

“There must be some original research somewhere “opined Molly

“Mycroft probably knows where it is and can have it sent over to the flat. John you can interpret the medical jargon form me and Sherlock you work the chemical notations if there are any correct?” Greg asked taking charge of the situation from his seat. “Whatever you find you can forward to Dimock as well. Just in case.”

He added as he rose still slightly unsteady making it about halfway to vertical before sliding back into his chair.

“Getting ready to go home for the day? We’ll help you get there and then talk to Mycroft” John pushed firmly.

“I have – “started Greg

“A terrible ear infection which your doctor will vouch for as soon as I tell her the excuse we used.” John finished. “You are really in no condition to go back to work today. We can disturb Mycroft, get the research we need and go from there. The rest of your caseload can be handled by your DS until you go back to work tomorrow.”

Greg just sighed and stared at them defeated as John made a phone call to his doctor explaining the situation.  
***********************************************

Mycroft it turned out lived in the Mayfair section of London in a discreet house on a non-descript street. Looking at it from the outside you could never tell that the person who made most of the decisions for Europe and meddled in the rest of the world lived in this domicile.

Mycroft was also waiting for them when they entered the house.

“I told you it would be better to hand the case-“he started pompously

“Shut it Myc” Greg snarled as John helped him into a chair. “I am still the same person I was six months ago. I am no giving up who I am just to be your bloody brood mare. Now since you obviously know what happened did you get the files we need so that I can get to bed at a reasonable hour?”

Mycroft nodded “I had to pull some strings to do so but given the circumstances, everyone thought that it was for the best.” 

The files were in boxes. Paper in a way was still far more secure than electronic records as long as it was properly logged and managed. No threat of all those pesky hackers provided one had a good cataloging system and a good log file. What surprised John and to some extent Greg were the names on the project: George Stamford, Mike Stamford and at the very bottom of the list as a junior researcher, Sherlock Holmes.

Both John and Greg stared a Sherlock in surprise. 

Sherlock shrugged “I was really just a glorified errand boy”

“Bit more than that” muttered Mycroft

“What do you remember about the project?” Greg asked

“Not a thing – or at least not a thing that would be useful” Sherlock said in a frustrated tone. “There were several different avenues of research going on at the same time and none of the groups had contact with the others so not to contaminate any results. My group was looking to see if a chemical solution such as an immunosuppressant could be developed. Ultimately, the safest course for everybody came out of the medical group.” His eyes brightened “We did develop several reagents that could track the age of blood stains and other biologicals material”

“So getting back on track, we are looking information on what happens if a second set of antigens is introduced after acclimation, whether or not it would be tractable and who the original researchers on the medical team that may have known whether or not this could be used as a weapon.” Greg announced before the sniping could commence. “Alright gentlemen pick a box and let’s get to work.”

Sherlock naturally found the first glimmer of an answer tucked away in at the end of a thick set of case notes from a successful first generation carrier. The carrier, a woman, had been a volunteer with the breeder factor married and successfully borne a child, one of the rare 1% of the first generation carriers to do so. After her husband’s sudden death in a car accident the carrier had remarried another Zim and had willingly undergone a second acclimation treatment.  
She was dead within 5 minutes. 

At the time, the researchers believed the carrier had an allergic reaction to the immunosuppressant agent that was administered in hopes of resetting her immune system back to its original state. All the researches except for one who a young statistical modeler and immunologist who included some complicated formulas to support the idea that the death was caused by a hyper-reaction of the immune system somewhat similar to anaphylaxis. The autopsy did not support this theory as no evidence of a reaction could be found so death was attributed to the drug.

“The drug could not have killed her” Sherlock whispered after reading the file.

“It was an allergic reaction, according the report. Even though she had no previous sensitivities, sometimes it happens.” John explained patiently  
Sherlock shook his head “No, the drug was a designer one, part biologic, part chemical which used the DNA of the person it was intended for in the crafting. If it would have caused an allergic reaction we would have seen it in the lab as it was being mixed with the reagents. We had designed a protocol to test for reactions and the verifications of compatibility were documented in the file.”

“Meaning?” Greg asked wearily

“She was not allergic to the drug, but did it work?” Mycroft asked

“That was what we could never really figure out, which was why that line of research was dropped. It appears that her immune system was suppressed - at least according to the white blood cell count which was done two hours after the first drug dose. They did a titer test for antigens as well to see if they were reduced enough for new ones to be introduced it seemed to have reset her system back to a baseline.”

“So what went wrong?”

“AIDS” John said briefly

“What?” Greg looked between them thoroughly confused.

“You could be right” agreed Sherlock and then elaborated “AIDS hides itself in reservoirs in various areas of the body so that even though the viral load in the blood stream can be almost nil, it would according some mathematical models take 60 to 80 years of HAART therapy to deplete the reservoirs”

“Meaning that even though the immune system was suppressed, there was no guarantee that the all of the antigen reservoirs were destroyed, instead of one or two doses of immunosuppressant therapy, it could have required years to reset her system” John confirmed

“Were there any other cases of secondary introduction?” Asked Mycroft

“Not in my pile” John answered “I did find some documentation of reactions from carriers kept in the same room possible due to cross contamination and one case of attempted murder of another carrier but it turns out the perpetrator had an undiagnosed mental illness that was exacerbated by the stress of the treatment. As soon as they realized the problem, the carrier was started on counseling and medication to work through the problem. Since then the file notes that they have born several children and are now working in the carrier program.”

“So what we have is essentially an untraceable way of killing carriers. “ Said Greg yawning loudly

“I wonder if the model included in the file could give us a way to test for the second set of antigens.” John speculated “If the first set is essentially destroying the first there should be some sort of way to track it.”

Mycroft gathered the model from the file and glanced significantly at Lestrade who was drowsing in his chair. “I will give it to an immunologist who can be trusted and see what they can do. The process will take several days. Until then I suggest we all get some sleep”

“Agreed, we will take the rest of the information home with us and sort through it there.” John and Sherlock rose to their feet in preparation to leave.

“Oh John, one other thing before you leave.” Mycroft spoke quite calmly as he walked over to his desk and reached behind it to produce a large heavy looking bag. “Here these are for you. I am sure the library would appreciate the return of the text book you borrowed and given the circumstances, I believe that we can lift the restriction on waiting until you produce a child before you get your own set.”

Peering down in to the bag John noticed that it was filled with a complete set of textbooks on carrier reproduction.  
“Thank you.”  
*********************************************  
The amount of paper that accompanied them home was astonishing. Even though a significant amount of progress had been made tonight by finding that one file, Sherlock could not rest, could not stop until the information was picked clean for any possible lead no matter how small. So the complied lists of names of the early carries, names of all the staff members who worked on the project and while Sherlock mapped relationships using thumb tacks and pieces of string on the wall, John combed the files for any more information on antigen reactions. Several hours later the entire wall was covered paper and string and John had fallen asleep without realizing it.

It was a touch that woke him up. Not the normal light shake on his good shoulder but a light brush of lips near his ear and then a whispering. “Come on we will not get anything else done tonight.”

Sherlock helped John to his feet as he muzzily stared around the room. 

“What time is it?” John asked as Sherlock led him to the bedroom and started to divest him of his shirt.

“Late. Or rather, I should say early. “He smiled slightly and then, unlike other nights when he had been led to bed after falling asleep in the sitting room, Sherlock kissed him.

Quietly, questioningly, the kiss continued and john got the impression that if Sherlock felt any hint of resistance he would end instantly. But he was okay with this he realized. Just as he was okay with the change in world, the he was okay with allowing their relationship to deepen. John pulled Sherlock closer and allowed him to deepen the kiss.

Hands started to roam slowly over his body, careful to stay above his waist almost as if he were a girl sitting in her parent’s front parlor. Inwardly smiling, John helped the matter along by removing Sherlock’s shirt and returning the caresses.

There was a groan, a brief tightening of arms and then a question. “Are you sure?” Sherlock asked in a rough whisper “This will change everything.”  
John did not even hesitate. “Yes.”

It was different yet the same, the melding of bodies. John knew what to expect in theory from textbooks and clandestine research and, to some extent, from his experience with the opposite sex. This was angles and fire instead of softness and slow heat. There was a brief pain towards the end when they joined completely for the first time the instinct took over and nerves sung until finally, John could no longer process anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plot, lots more pseudoscience no politics this time promise

There was something missing John thought after his classes were completed the next day and the library book had been surreptitiously returned to its proper place in the restricted section. It had nagged at the back of his mind when he woke up with a scant two hours of sleep for his morning shift at the A&E to the sleepy grumbles of his lover who demanded that he call in sick. John vetoed that request and trudged through his morning routine half asleep only managing to wake up through the use of copious amount s of caffeinated liquid and the fantasy of a long solitary nap when he got home.

Running through the files they had scanned in his mind, he realized what was bothering him. Where was the information on the first generation carriers? The research files that had been provided had been, with the exception of the one lone file concerning the unsuccessful reaclimation. Yet given the statistics in the textbooks and the notations in the files there had to information available on the first generation right?

But where was it?

The question dominated his mind so much that it to John a few blocks to notice the car that was following him like a lost puppy.

The car was shiny black an obviously expensive. The type John imagined, ferried government dignitaries from one meeting to another or perhaps he thought whimsically starlets on their way to the next press conference.

He stopped right there in the middle of the busy London sidewalk and the car stopped instantly. After his last run in with strange men in dark clothing John was noticeably nervous but the door revealed his (brother in law?) who beckoned him to join him in the car.

“John, just the man I was hoping to speak with” Mycroft purred. “I have a bit of a favor to ask of you’ John eyed Mycroft warily. Mycroft’s favors could range from hiding Sherlock’s Cigarettes to poisoning half the known world. Mycroft continued on blithely as if unaware of John’s discomfiture.

“As you know Greg is with child and I was wondering if you would be willing to act as a sort of second for him, someone in whom he can confide when he feels uncomfortable speaking with me or who can accompany him to appointments if I must travel due to work.”

There was a slight tightness in Mycroft’s tone an unusual uneasiness that, if this request had come six months ago John would never had noticed but now after dealing with him - and Sherlock John could see behind the mask to some extent and realize just how worried Mycroft was about the entire situation.

He nodded “of course I will.”

Mycroft relaxed visibly. “Thank you “

“Where are the rest of the files?” John asked quietly.

Mycroft’s face instantly became bland again. “The rest of the files? I am sure I don’t know what you are implying-“

“All of the files we looked through are from the second generation of the carrier program. Where are the first generation files?” John’s eyes bored into Mycroft’s until the older man was forced to look away.

"I will assist you in retrieving them but in return, I have a request. Don’t share them with Greg or, Sherlock. And, before you look through them there is some information I need to share with you.” Mycroft whispered. They were outside London now, driving through the countryside John noted.

Mycroft cleared his throat and began to speak. “The first generation of the carrier program was fifteen years ago. We had just begun to take over the reins of government. The antigen problem had become apparent some five years before and we were looking at the most logical way of handling it. In the first three years of research it became apparent that there was no way to reverse the effect and make it so that we could become fertile with our own species once again so we looked at ways to cross breed with the other sentient inhabitants of the planet, the ones closest to our own physiology.

The Breeder Factor was discovered fairly early on in the research although we did not understand the full precautions needed at the time. We thought that with some of the other lines of research we had been perusing – the organ generation had been perfected years ago –we were just waiting for a chance to debut it to replace transplants. That when we found someone we loved who was a breeder we would be able to produce children. “Mycroft closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the seat.

“It did not work out that way. “ Stated John quietly

“At the time I had been seeing my PA a young man by the name of Tobias Gregson and Sherlock -. Sherlock was different; he had been slated under the new order to head the science community and at twenty was already working on masters in chemistry at Cambridge. He also had a romantic interest a man by the name of Victor Trevor. Both Tobias and Victor tested positive for the breeder factor and both volunteered to undergo the procedure. At the time we did not know about the compatibility issue.” Mycroft’s voice had taken on a clinical tone at this point as if reading from a medical file.

“Tobias died almost as soon as the procedure started. I held his hand. Victor took months to die and Sherlock - Sherlock walked away from his position. After Victor he crashed for a while, experimented with recreational substances until Greg found him and convinced him to help Scotland Yard. Sherlock had always had an interest in forensics and crimes, working with Greg brought it to the forefront.

Unfortunately, he is too much of shall we say a loose cannon to work within the standard legal structure and he was no longer considered fit to head the Science arm. So now Sherlock works as a sort of a troubleshooter by solving crimes and situations that no one else can. I had left the files out because I did not want Sherlock to have to relieve those months”

“Does Greg know?” Asked John quietly

“About Tobias? Yes. I told him not long after you were discharged. “Mycroft looked away. “I will always miss Tobias but I love Greg in here and now. We will build a life together.”

“Why did you go through the program again?”

“We were not given a choice. Sherlock and I were deemed too valuable not to have progeny. I had known that Greg was a perfect candidate for several years now but waited until a perfect match was found for Sherlock before I consented. “

“You were not sure how he would handle it?”

Mycroft laughed “I was not sure, if my younger brother did not have the illusion that I was being forced into the process as well whether or not he would run and that would have been…. Unfortunate”

“So you actually started building your relationship with Greg before the procedure.”

Mycroft nodded again “Neither of us are getting any younger and I was not sure how long it would take for them to find a match for Sherlock. Because of our history only a perfect match would suffice. So I wooed him quietly. Built his trust. When the actual time came for us to begin our life together we were years ahead of the average learning curve. “He smiled briefly, “preplanning pays off. “

Mycroft turned serious again “for all of my younger brother’s brilliance and seeming social indifference, he is still very emotionally fragile. I would that you keep that in mind. Carrier or not, I would not take it lightly if my younger brother were hurt because of you.” And with that Mycroft turned to the window resolutely.

**

It looked like an abandoned warehouse, condemned and ready give up on verticality from the outside. If one made it past the perimeter and into the front door, the individual would find a pleasant young security guard with an unpleasant slightly illegal looking weapon who would remind the person of the dangers of trespass and merits of leaving immediately. If the warning were not heeded well, people disappeared every day.

After an individual made it past the gatekeeper in his little room though, the view changed. For the abandoned warehouse was a carefully constructed front for a secure document containment facility. Everything you ever wanted to know about the world’s most intimate secrets were kept here John realized, carefully cataloged and filed away for posterity, protection, or potential use.

“Does the government know this is exists?” John asked softly

Mycroft smiled a little half smile “No. This is not per se a government facility.” He nodded to a grey haired man that John recognized from the telly as a noted newspaper magnet.

“Charles, we are here for the stage 1 carrier research files I will be checking them out and remanding them to Dr. Watson’s and Dr. M. Stamford’s custody”.

“Of course Lord Holmes.” The Gray haired man nodded a bustled off to retrieve the files.

“Charles is our chief Archivist and publicity officer. He runs these facilities.”

“Ah.”

More Boxes were retrieved. John noted almost as many as they had worked through the night before. Mycroft looked at the volume of paper calmly and nodded briefly when a receipt was produced for a signature.

“Just one more question Charles, has anyone else inquired about the currieries program recently?” Mycroft asked.

Magnusson shook his head. “The information is of the highest secrecy classification. There are only about six people in the world that would have the ability to request it other than the researchers working on the project, and they generally have their own copies of the relevant information.”

“Thank you” Mycroft inclined his head.

**

I was decided, on the long car ride back to London that the materials would be kept at Mycroft’s home as John, in his capacity as Greg’s second (are you sure there is no dueling involved?) would have good reason to be spending a significant amount of time in his vicinity. Sherlock had already be made aware of the request for the additional demand on John’s time and had agreed to the arrangement with a wave of his hand (I need Greg as he is one of the more capable DI’s at the yard so if John is required to monitor him while you go gallivanting off to Europe than so be it).

The arrangement worked. Two days a week, after his shift a St. Bart’s, John took a cab to Mycroft’s home to sift through the documents that had been liberated from the archives while Sherlock worked on sifting through the information pinned to the wall on Baker street or other minor cases that appeared at their door step. The research had been astonishing in its nature. They had not been facetious when they had announced no stone had been left unturned in order to solve this problem and that the carriers were the last resort. The first generation had been volunteers. Friends and lovers of Zims who had been working on the project who, by the genetic lottery, were compatible with their partners. The first attempt was a rousing success in fact, a heterosexual couple who had twins after acclimation. A second attempt with a homosexual couple was also successful. The third through fifth attempts were ones that exposed the truth.

Now confident in the process, the researchers choose to do the next three acclimations simultaneously though they kept the individuals separate as not to contaminate the results. The Zims were sure that results would be the same.

They were wrong.

As Mycroft told him earlier, Tobias had died within five minutes of the first infusion of antigens. The immunology team later tracked his reaction to an RH like factor contained in the antigens that needed to be matched precisely in order to prevent the anaphylaxis like reaction that cost him his life.

The other two carriers were not so lucky. Victor, Sherlock’s lover and another young man named Carl who was in a relationship with a member of the immunology team had no immediate reaction to the antigens and at first seemed to be handling the acclimation process well. That’s when the seizures started. They were small at first, a hand that started shaking for no apparent reason, a brief period of staring at nothing in particular like they were lost in thought that soon progressed to full body seizures. Until one by one their organs started shutting down in a slow agonizing death spiral. The senior researchers were baffled by the cause of the problem as there seemed to be no real reaction to the antigens such as Tobias had suffered but Sherlock, working with Carl’s partner a young immunologist and statistician had managed to develop a more accurate test that isolated an enzyme that was slowly destroying their bodies. There was no cure.

After Victor’s death, Sherlock managed his grief long enough to help develop a test and classification range for the enzyme. All of the Zims had it to some extent, but the higher the concentration the less likely a particular individual was to find a compatible carrier. Sherlock was at the top of the safe zone for the enzyme which meant; according to the file that only a perfect match would survive the procedure. The other researcher who had made the breakthrough had such a high concentration of the substance that it was thought no match would ever be found.

His name was James Moriarty. For a while, he continued working on the program. He was obviously looking for a way to overcome the enzyme and part of the research included the model of the second acclimation procedure. But then his notes just…. Vanished.

That was odd. John thought to himself as he let himself back into the flat.

Sherlock was once again adding to the wall that mapped out the carrier case and frowning to himself as he did so. “I am missing something “Sherlock muttered as he stared at the wall.

“Have all of the researchers been traced?” John asked

Sherlock stared at the John for a few moments before answering “You personally know most of the John I doubt really that Dr. Stamford would rush around killing-“

“What about this one?” John asked quietly pointing to the small card at the bottom with Moriarty printed on it. “

“He left the program after I did. We worked together briefly but –“Sherlock frowned in thought.

“Have you checked for other murders outside of London?”

“Mm Interpol is compiling a list of cases and we are trying to match it to the carrier database. We’ve found two others so far. One in Canada, One in Demark, and there is another potential case in Australia. All of them would have been in the same carrier generation. The bodies were buried so most of the evidence is already lost. Sherlock’s eye widened. “Grab your coat we need to go to the morgue.”

****

Sherlock had obviously texted ahead to have Molly preps the corpses of the two victims. They were laying side by side on face down waiting for whatever Sherlock had planned.

“Do you have a black light?” Sherlock inquired as he removed his coat and gloves.

Molly nodded and passed him the small flashlight like device. Sherlock shone the beam on the back of the neck near the mediport scars. As the alternate light source played over the corpses, words appeared.

“Did you miss me?” was written in precise handwriting directly under the scar on Dr. Jefferies

“Really Sherlock, I expected better from you.” Decorated Trisha Cathy’s neck.

Sherlock smiled grimly as they wrote the words on a piece of paper. “He never did have any originality” he sighed.

“Who?”

“Who else? Moriarty."


End file.
